. Why wouldn't I have my own voice? Do you think I'm a ghost?

MARTIN DOUL. Which of you all is herself? (He goes up to Bride.) Is it
you is Mary Doul? I'm thinking you're more the like of what they said
(peering at her.) For you've yellow hair, and white skin, and it's the
smell of my own turf is rising from your shawl. [He catches her shawl.]

BRIDE -- [pulling away her shawl.] -- I'm not your wife, and let you get
out of my way. [The People laugh again.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [with misgiving, to another Girl.] -- Is it yourself
it is? You're not so fine-looking, but I'm thinking you'd do, with the
grand nose you have, and your nice hands and your feet.

GIRL -- [scornfully.] -- I never seen any person that took me for blind,
and a seeing woman, I'm thinking, would never wed the like of you.

[She turns away, and the People laugh once more, drawing back a little
and leaving him on their left.]

PEOPLE -- [jeeringly.] -- Try again, Martin, try again, and you'll be
finding her yet.

MARTIN DOUL -- [passionately.] -- Where is it you have her hidden away?
Isn't it a black shame for a drove of pitiful beasts the like of you to
be making game of me, and putting a fool's head on me the grand day
of my life? Ah, you're thinking you're a fine lot, with your giggling,
weeping eyes, a fine lot to be making game of myself and the woman I've
heard called the great wonder of the west.

[During this speech, which he gives with his back towards the church,
Mary Doul has come out with her sight cured, and come down towards the
right with a silly simpering smile, till she is a little behind Martin
Doul.]

MARY DOUL -- [when he pauses.] -- Which of you is Martin Doul?

MARTIN DOUL -- [wheeling round.] -- It's her voice surely. [They stare
at each other blankly.]

MOLLY BYRNE -- [to Martin Doul.] -- Go up now and take her under the
chin and be speaking the way you spoke to myself.

MARTIN DOUL -- [in a low voice, with intensity.] -- If I speak now, I'll
speak hard to the two of you.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [to Mary Doul.] -- You're not saying a word, Mary. What
is it you think of himself, with the fat legs on him, and the little
neck like a ram?

MARY DOUL. I'm thinking it's a poor thing when the Lord God gives you
sight and puts the like of that man in your way.

MARTIN DOUL. It's on your two knees you should be thanking the Lord God
you're not looking on yourself, for if it was yourself you seen you'd
be running round in a short wh